Adrenaline
by ZilverMidnight
Summary: Rated for safety on descriptions. He had a love for the sight. It enthralled him. Absolutely lovely against pale, dead skin. And it was just perfect upon his beloved silver friends. Short and less focused on the blood itself.


Edited: so much. Haha! Bold was really getting on my nerves, and I fixed my story up a little. Still relatively the same, but just a sentence added here and there. But before I had this entire disclaimer and yada yada edited, I wrote something along the lines of me being infatuated with the movie. Still am, but with less intensity than in the summer. Johnny Depp has captured my imagination with wonder. :3

Since I am rewriting this introduction, here we go!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! I really wish I did own a copy of the soundtrack though...

* * *

It was for the pure joy and rush of excitement. It took only that to urge him to slice again, but he never did. Once was enough to spill blood and kill the victim off. Blood would spurt, drip, and trickle down and from the mens' throats.

And all for the sweet joy to kill.

---

Sweeney Todd stood in his little parlor. His customer of the moment was seated in the chair that stood before the window that overlooked Fleet Street. The poor lad was not aware of his early death that would occur soon. But Todd was. Oh indeed he was. He stepped away from his little desk, robe in hand, and swept it over the young man's chest. "Goo' day, Mr. Todd?" his asked, looking up at the barber with a small smile on his face.

A wry smirk lit up Sweeney's face. "Oh yes, indeed, Bradley," was his cheery reply. Soft and mellow, but cheery for him.

The white sheet waspulled around the man's neck and he went and grabbed the shaving cream in a bowl, gently taking the brush over pale skin. What was with gloomy London and the pale skins? Todd wouldn't bother himself over it. It fit so well with his vicious job. When he finished painting Bradley's face he pulled his razor from a trouser pocket, hand lightly holding it above the ground. The blade slid out with a small flick of his wrist.

Todd's beloved silver glinted almost happily in the dirty light.

"I ask, Mr. Todd, do you have a likin' fo' Mrs. Lovett's pies?" His customer was the talkitive type, it seemed. He nodded while starting to sharpen his blade, momentarily forgetting that the lad couldn't see it. "I guess. They are pret'y good, if I have to say somet'in," he mumbled to make up for the unseen gesture. Satisfied with the sharpening, he pressed it against a finger. Small beads of blood oozed from between his skin and cold silver.

"I see. I guess evr'ybody 'as their own thoughts, eh?" Bradley said as if nothing were to happen.

As if he were just a normal barber, Sweeney pulled the blade to his guest's throat, metal meeting the skin. But Sweeney was not normal in the least. Mrs. Lovett could even agree to the description of 'demon.'

"Exactly, lad." Bradley let out what would be his last sigh.

Bradley. So content and unknowing.

Sweeney Todd swiftly touched the blade to his jugular and dragged it across the whole throat cleanly, without a single flaw in his practiced and smooth movement. Bradley sat up, startled, confused, scared, and panicked at the same time. The blond choked on blood, gasping and gurgling for words that wouldn't come and he desperately clutched at the cloth that had suddenly tightened around his neck with a harsh sound of rubbing fabric. A dark, red liquid was leaking profusely from the deep cut in his throat. He convulsed and twitched for a few seconds before going limp in the chair and his hands fell to to the sides of the chair with dull thuds. The young man who had walked in, blond hair all wavy and blue eyes warm, now sat dead before his evil barber.

Blood had spurted from his throat at the cut and Todd's hands and arms were in front of his neck, as if in a deadly embrace. Black crimson stained two white shirts, one on the front and collar and another on the sleeves, elbows to cuffs; the blood was quite warm and sticky to touch on all surfaces. These surely weren't going to come out easily...

"More supplies," the killer said with a wicked grin. He pulled his arms from the dead man's neck, checking the object in his hand. The razor was clutched in it, silver clashing beautifully with deep and bright reds, so suited for his devilish habits. Such was the gift to his friends, the gift of blood to feed off of, even if they weren't quite alive to everybody.

Adrenaline flooded through Todd's senses, filling him with the slight giddy feeling of a school girl. A small giggle escaped his throat as his foot smashed down on a small pedal below his chair. Bradley the carpenter's apprentice... slid off the chair and down into a skinning basement, neck snapping on the stone floor. The sickening sound was like harmonic music to the pale man who hummed as he wiped his 'friend' clean. His dark rimmed eyes were narrowed in glee while the corners of his mouth were upturned in just the smallest hints of a grin. His weary look seemed to brighten every time he got to slit throats, spirits soaring at the feel of warm blood on his hands. With a gleeful sigh, Sweeney put the now-clean razor away with it brothers, a 'tut' coming from the cloth-covered wood.

The barber stalked over to his large window, face still smirking and bright in the grimy glass. People walked below him, some scurrying along before others. Ah, he wondered who would be his next victim. A sudden sound caused the dark haired man to snap his head to the door. A tall, thin man stood in the open doorway, rugged brown hair hanging in his face while coal black eyes looked at his fellow with curiosity.

Another wave of giddy feeling swelled inside Todd.

"Care for a shave, sir?" he asked, a half-false smile upon his lips. He recieved a sheepish grin in return.

"If I may, Mr. Todd."

* * *

And thus, changed a bit. Noticed the wrong way to end a spoken sentence, where it goes to say ""..." he said" and such. Overlooked that. Sorry.

**-ZilverMidnight**


End file.
